1

2

ALIGNMENT

Simon Furman

TRANSFORCE PRODUCTIONS

ALIGNMENTCopyright © Transforce productions

The Transformers and all names and likenesses are © Hasbro 2005.Robo-Capers is © Marvel Comics 2005.

3

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form,by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means,

Including information storage or retrieval systems,without permission in writing from both the copyright

owner and the publisher of this book.

First Published 2002Second edition published August 2005 by

Transforce Productions.

Printed in Great Britain by Transforce productions

4

Alignment is illustrated by:

Lee Sullivan (cover)Andrew Wildman (page 15)

Geoff Senior (pages 31 and 36)Kev Hopgood (page 62)Jeff Anderson (page 71)Lee Sullivan (Page 76)

Lew Stringer (page 74)

Edited by Paul Cannon

ALIGNMENTThis book was printed

exclusively for pre-registrantsof Transforce 2002 and is not

on general sale. No profitwhatsoever has been be made

from the sale of this book.

Transforce 2002 was a non-profit making, fan run

convention. Transforce is notaffiliated to, or endorsed by

Hasbro.www.transforce.org.uk

5

To my wife, Anna, a writer likemyself… but minus the explosions.

6

7

AlignmentBook 1

8

What they needed, Grimlock decided, was a Unicron.

This was not a sudden conclusion. In common withmost all of the Dinobot commander’s somewhat rareinsights, this undertaking had involved long hours, days,weeks even of painstaking deliberation. Grimlock wasnot stupid, and not slow. Indeed, in battle his speed,judgement and reflexes were second to none. But hewas sometimes pedestrian when it came to deepthinking.

The problem that had started Grimlock lumbering offdown this particular cognitive path stemmed from theircurrent mission. They were now into day 78 of a deepspace odyssey to the outer fringes of the Hadean system.Their Autobot Hyperwave skimmer was already beyondexisting star charts, far into the wilderzones, where noother Transformer — or indeed known species — hadventured. And so far nada, zip, nothing. All they’dfound was a big, empty hunk of space and Grimlockwas bored beyond belief.

Day 78 had dawned — if indeed such terminology wasapplicable without so much as a single star withinseventy billion light years — much like the previousseventy-seven. As the mission’s Flight Leader,Grimlock was expected to officially relieve the ‘night’watch helmsman and hand over to the ‘day’ shift. Whathad actually happened was that Grimlock had crashedso loudly onto the forward bridge, he’d woken Blaster,who had let his systems idle when the monotony hadfinally, totally overwhelmed him.

9

Both had reacted with surprise. Grimlock because he’dsomehow blundered onto the bridge when actually he’dbeen bound for the particle showers, and Blasterbecause his internal chronometer immediately registeredthat he’d been in exactly the same position, undisturbed,since Day 71.

Blaster had stalked off angrily, bound for the rec room,where the rest of the crew had no doubt idled for thepast several days, his existence a fading memory. Hisintention was to amp up his chest speakers to max, plughimself into the ship’s intercom system and fry theiraudio sensors with Quarian thrash. Grimlock,meanwhile, had stared, as if confused by the bridge andits unfamiliar geometry, uncertain of its function, andthen exited without a backward glance.

In the empty bridge, automated systems ticked stoicallyon, charting the void ahead, endlessly meticulous. Everyspike and echo of space noise was categorised andlogged, every fluctuation in the radio-magneticspectrum registered, every spatial anomaly recorded.External sensors reached out long, invisible filamentsinto the emptiness, probing, searching… for energon.

****

‘What kind of job that?’ Grimlock had demanded ofacting Autobot leader Ultra Magnus. ‘Me warrior, notboy scout!’

In the high chamber of the so-called Stellar Galleries onCybertron, Ultra Magnus sighed long and hard. He wasnot in the mood for Grimlock and his inevitable

10

tantrums. Far more pressing concerns, not least thecritical condition of Optimus Prime, weighed heavily onhis mind.

He’d fixed Grimlock with the most baleful stare hecould muster and gestured wide in the generally vaguedirection of ‘outside’. ‘Have you taken a good look atour homeworld recently, Grimlock?’ Ultra Magnusleaned forwards for emphasis. ‘It’s not in a good shape,we’re not in a good shape’.

Grimlock, though, just stared blankly, as if Magnuswere suddenly, miraculously speaking in tongues.Magnus sighed, settling back. ‘Pinea Omicron cost usall dearly,’ he continued finally. ‘Maybe we did win thebattle, and yes, maybe the Decepticons came off worse,but in the end, unless we can come up with a whole lotof energon — and fast — we’re all looking at the bigshutdown.’

Grimlock kicked at some imaginary object, sulky. Hedidn’t like or respect Magnus, and he didn’t like beingsent on scouting missions. He was built for combat. Endof story. Magnus was speaking again, and Grimlockreluctantly phased him back in. ‘… take whateversearch arc you want, hand-pick a crew, go where noTransformer has gone before, but please just go. Find usa new source of energon.’

Further debate was curtailed as the far doors to thechamber swung wide, admitting Prowl. ‘The energyresearch committee is ready for you, Magnus,’ he said,ignoring Grimlock. ‘They’ve come up with someinterim plans they’d like to run past us.’

11

Ultra Magnus rose. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Grimlock, Ihave to go discuss downsizing and other less-than-palatable options. Have a safe trip…’

****

Have a safe trip! Grimlock had done everything in hispower to have anything but. The way into thewilderzones had long been considered one of the mosthazardous and potentially life-threatening journeysnever to have been undertaken. Legend had it that thestar-fields beyond the outer fringe were stalked bycreatures big enough to bear entire civilisations on theirbacks, hosts of soul-sucking Parafiends and vast armiesthat poured like molten metal from the heart of super-dense stars. So much for legend.

And so, 78 days in and not a Parafiend to be had,Grimlock had reached the momentous conclusion thatthey needed another Unicron. Not necessarily THEUnicron, but something close, something big and epic,something that called for blood and thunder, do or die.Anything but this!

It had been several hundred years since the chaos-bringer Unicron had been destroyed, and to be fair therehad been a few epic threats in-between. But nothingreally on the same scale. Jhiaxus, the Swarm, Mogahnthe Mass, Praetorian, the Ebon Knights… and, mostrecently, Pinea Omicron. But then it really was becauseof Pinea Omicron and the fifty or so years that hadpreceded it, that they were here now, scraping aroundthe galaxy for energon. It had, decided Grimlock,

12

conceding Magnus’s contention long after the fact, beena sustained and costly conflict.

Under Galvatron II, the Decepticons had built andmobilised a huge fleet of Warworlds; planet-sizedbattleships with a power core fed by unstable, fissionedenergon. They were lumbering and hugely energy-inefficient, but their destructive power was awesome tobehold.

In order to safeguard Cybertron, the Autobots activelyrelocated their entire world, using technologyappropriated from former Decepticon commander,Jhiaxus to clone other ‘Cybertrons’ from barren,uninhabited worlds. These decoys served both tomislead and divide the enemy, but eventually a criticalsecurity blunder led the Decepticon fleet tantalisinglyclose to the location of the real Cybertron. A massedAutobot armada engaged the Decepticons at the spiralarc known as Pinea Omicron in an attempt to end theconflict once and for all. Huge losses were sustained byboth sides, and in a climactic and crucial confrontation,Autobot leader Optimus Prime finally ended the reign ofGalvatron II. But only at huge personal cost. Wounded,drained, Prime too fell. Fell hard.

Grimlock had been among the first to reach Prime’sslumped form. Not dead, but close to it. He’d engaged astasis field around Prime’s body, maintaining theflickering energy of his Spark within it. To date, there’dbeen no improvement. Prime was still functionless, aliving war monument.

13

Which Grimlock could relate to. Another day of this,and his systems would be shutting down also, his brainfreefalling into oblivion. Completing a cursory scan ofships’ systems in the auxiliary flight deck, Grimlockprepared to take his higher functions off-line. He wasthree alpha stages into another extended personal hiatuswhen the first wave of missiles hit and the bulkheadnearest to Grimlock blew out into space.

****

It barely moved, but it saw everything, kneweverything. It rarely spoke, but still communicated onmultiple levels, issuing orders simultaneously tocountless warriors, agents and operatives on a variety ofactive duties across the known galaxy and beyond. Theintrusion on the far northern perimeter of Hub spacehad, inevitably, been noted and a cadre of free-phasingmultiforms despatched to deal with it.

The craft, it knew, was an Autobot Hyperwave, and itexperienced a rare moment of disquiet. The alignmentwas so close now. It had waited all its long, long life forjust this moment, and nothing — no detail, no matterhow small or insignificant — could be allowed todistract it.

Having hidden its existence for countless millennia, theLiege Maximo was resolved not to be discovered now.

14

Aboard the Hyperwave, the sudden rude awakening hadprecipitated a mad scramble for previously neglectedstations around the ship.

Grimlock had managed at least to prevent himself beingsucked out into space, engaging magno-clamps on thesoles of his feet. The only problem was that onceengaged it was all but impossible to move about withany kind of speed or urgency. Outside, the unknownassault ships were banking, ready for another attack run,and Grimlock was several slow, painstaking steps awayfrom the nearest tactical station.

Through the largely missing bulkhead, Grimlock wasafforded a spectacular view of the enemy ships. Theywere hard to pin down, inasmuch as they never seemedto keep the same configuration for more than momentsat a time. In rigid arrowhead formation they swepttowards the Hyperwave. As they neared, extra wingssprouted, fusilages restructured and augmented,weapons of all descriptions multiplied and grew.

Another tortuous step. Grimlock reached out a desperatehand. Another step. Ahead the glowing, free-floatingtactical display. Counter-measures, evasive manoeuvres,forward weapons, shields… all pre-programmed in andaccessible at the mere brush of a fingertip across andthrough the holographic sequencers. Another step. Sonear now. Perhaps only another arm’s length.

15

16

Another step. On the periphery of his vision, Grimlocksaw countless missiles streaking towards them,predatory bio-molecular warheads that multiplied andevolved. Another—

‘You might move faster,’ observed Perceptor, as hestrode in through the expanding hatchway, waving ahand across the tactical display, ‘if you disengaged yourmagno-clamps. Emergency forcefields establishedthemselves right after the first strike. You’ve had fullgravity now for seventy point three five seconds.’

The Hyperwave lurched violently, just as Grimlockchose to test Perceptor’s assertion. A pre-set evasionpattern twisted them through an immediate series ofsharp, banking turns, each accompanied by the releaseof thousands of decoy targets and an almost immediateseries of off-ship detonations. The Hyperwave buckedand rode the shockwaves, and with each turn and impactGrimlock flew wildly across the auxiliary flight deck,careening off walls and work stations and every nowand then jolting painfully against the emergencyforcefield.

And through it all, Perceptor calmly surveyed thetactical readouts and displays, noting that below in thebattle bay Springer and Swoop were returning fire withall plasma cannons. All they had done, he neverthelessconcluded, was buy themselves a few preciousmoments. Their attackers were too numerous, too highlyadaptive, and long-range sensors were picking up moreon an inbound intercept course.

17

It was really only a matter of time before they wereblown to kingdom come.

****

Many millions of light years away, on a metal worldformerly known as Pyrovar, Soundwave was doing whathe did best: listening.

Some years before, Galvatron II had established hiscommand centre here, building a colossal fortress thatspanned an entire continent and was clearly visible fromouter space. Pyrovar, its indigent population eitherwiped out or enslaved, had been re-named NewCybertron.

Now, in the Grand Forum, a vast open hall protected bya fiery energy dome, the future of the Decepticon racewas being hotly debated. The destruction of GalvatronII had left the usual power vacuum, but rather than — ashad been the tradition in the past — various would-beleaders jockeying to seize control, it currently seemedno one really wanted the job.

Of course, that didn’t stop everyone and his mecho-minder having an opinion.

On the one hand, Shrapnel advocated continuing thewar on a guerilla basis, isolating and seizing theAutobots’ remaining stores of energon in a series oflightning raids. Fine in principle, except that theAutobots had their own energy crisis, and they werehardly likely to leave their precious energon bunkers

18

unguarded. If indeed, they hadn’t already moved themto new, secure locations.

Stormfront, one of the surviving members of GalvatronII’s elite guard, wanted immediate and bloodyretribution, an all-out assault on Cybertron itself andOptimus Prime’s head on a spike. He was largelyignored, everyone but him united in a tacitunderstanding that in days, if not hours, his head wouldbe the one on a spike. Stormfront was a bitter reminderto one and all of how much Pinea Omicron had costthem.

The whispered urgings of Mantissa, chief scientificadvisor to the council, had engendered a certain level ofexcitement and support. Her scheme involved invasivenanotechnology, spread by a self-replicating viruscarried in living hosts. The idea was to infect Autobotprisoners of war and then, in a supposed gesture ofgoodwill, send them home. The problem was that noone quite knew how to prevent the nano-plaguespreading to Decepticons.

One after the other, Sabrejaw, Mindgame and Killzonetook the floor, the strategies veering wildly from rabidto labyrinthine to apocalyptic. And underlying it all, apalpable desperation, a sense of crushing inevitability.As a race, they were staring extinction squarely in theface, and beyond the Grand Forum ground roots supportwas gathering for a splinter faction calling themselvesPredacons. They advocated unconditional surrender tothe Autobots, a pooling of resources, an extended timeof gathering and secret re-building.

19

As quietly as he had arrived, Soundwave slipped away.He had heard enough. Only one being could preservethe Decepticon race and guarantee their future.

****

‘The vast gulfs of nothingness that made up thewilderzones yawned before us, huge and endlessly dark.Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

‘Our Hyperwave cut through the void, weaving anddipping, turning and plunging. All to no avail. Thepredatory horde in pursuit simply matched us move formove, pushing us harder and faster, bombarding ourshields and depleting our weapons and counter-measures. Wave after wave of morphing, predatoryshapes swept in, gathering for the kill…’

Grimlock paused, considering. Too flowery? Probably.And what’s more, he hadn’t spent several million yearsbuilding a reputation as being surly, taciturn andgrammatically challenged to blow it all in an overlyelegaic epitaph. He pressed erase, and cleared his vocalactualisers…

‘We try to escape but no deal, too many bogeys, toofast. We give good account of ourselves, though, and—’

‘Grimlock,’ boomed Blaster over the ship’s commsystem, ‘aren’t you done with that recording yet? Loadthe freakin’ S.A.D. pod, and get up here. There’ssomething you need to see.’

20

Pausing only to shoot the offending — and now silent— comm pad a thunderous look, Grimlock closed theinput dock and shunted the Sensory/Analytical Data podinto the missile silo. Disguised as a Starpedo, it wouldbe launched with the next salvo. The idea was, attackingships would simply assume it had missed its target andfailed to detonate. Thereafter, it would continue on itsmerry way back towards Cybertron. Once it was withinsensor range, it would begin broadcasting a distresssignal and — hopefully — be retrieved.

Of course, by then they would all be free-floating spacedust, but at least it would alert others, and provide sometactical data on both this region of space and theirmysterious attackers.

Re-entering the main battle bay, Grimlock foundPerceptor displaying uncharacteristic agitation, a stateindicated in its entirety by one solitary finger tap-tapping on the stellar mapping console at which hestood. Swoop, Blaster and Springer were gatheredaround him, staring up at the huge forward displayscreen. Grimlock stared too. Stared hard.

‘Me see nothing,’ he snorted after several moments. TheHyperwave then bucked several times, buffeted byshielded impacts, but by now these ‘almost’ impactswere becoming commonplace. Only the onboardcomputer reacted, warning them that counter-measureshad failed, and shields were now down to fifteenpercent. They ignored it, everyone aboard knew theywere just one or two direct hits from oblivion.

21

‘That’s just it,’ replied Perceptor, when the Hyperwavehad settled once more, ‘there’s nothing. And thereshould be.’

Pulling up a holographic display, Perceptor indicatedthe extrapolated flight path of a comet he’d dubbedProgeny, their sole companion through this otherwisebarren sector of space. ‘Based on Progeny’s trajectory itshould currently be here, 210,897 solar reks off ourstarboard bow. It’s gone.’

‘Destroyed?’, queried Grimlock, not seeing at all wherethis was going.

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Perceptor. ‘There’d be traceevidence, energy fallout, something. ‘No. I think it’scloaked.’

This time Grimlock made no effort to conceal his scorn.‘A cloaked comet? Me heard everything now. Weseconds from big shutdown and best science officer cancome up with is this. We doomed.’

Perceptor’s finger tap-tapped restlessly again. ‘No, hearme out. The comet is behind the cloak. That emptysector of space you’re looking at, I don’t believe it’sempty at all. I think our sensors are being deceived byan immensely sophisticated holospore projection.There’s something there. We just can’t see it.’

Another huge series of blasts rocked the Hyperwave, theforce slamming them forwards. ‘Hull compromised,sections omicron and theta aft, delta port, epsilonstarboard,’ screeched the computer as energy feedback

22

blew off panel covers and emergency lighting paintedthem red. Smoke billowed in through nearby ventilationducts.

‘Set a course,’ ordered Grimlock. ‘We go see where thatfreaky comet of yours gone…’

The Hyperwave banked and turned, trailing debris fromits shattered superstructure. Its engines flared bright androcketed it forward into the yawning emptiness ahead.Behind the craft, the attacking ships slowed anddropped into holding positions.

‘They’re not following us in,’ Blaster confirmed.

Grimlock just snorted. ‘Why me not reassured by that.’

‘Energy distortion,’ reported Perceptor, indicating thescreen, where space seemed to have become twisted,pulled out of shape. It stretched, yawned, and then…

They stared. It was beyond words, beyond easycomprehension. There was a distinct, staggered pausebefore their minds caught up with and could begin tointerpret what their eyes were seeing:

An impossibly vast network of almost identical metalplanets, stretching in all directions as far as the eye —and even the Hyperwave’s long-range sensors — couldsee, each connected to the other in a massive three-dimensional web. The planetary construct thrummedwith energy, coursing through its stellar bodies andtendril limbs, pulsing across huge gulfs of space.Schools of thousands of small craft swam across this

23

ocean of worlds, endlessly towing and transporting,laying new layers and levels of geometric complexity.The massed structure had depth as well as width, but thespatial distances involved defied calculation.

Perceptor finally broke the stunned silence: ‘Multiplelaunches from the nearest planets, attack formations.’

‘Somehow,’ muttered Springer, ‘I knew you were goingto say that.’

****

It watched as they dived low over G345 of LateralTransverse String N-N-E, sweeping the Hyperwavethrough and under the support structures of the vastmeta-processing plants there, built on gantries milesabove the planet’s open liquid metal core. It watched asthey shot upward in an audaciously steep ascent, firingoff the last of their pitifully depleted armaments. Itwatched as they navigated the inverted geography of theHulla Filament, twisting and spinning desperatelythrough the hanging latticework of spiral power-couplings. It watched as its fleet followed, matchingthem move for move, evading their Starpedoes andpulse cannons, battering them mercilessly in return.

And finally it watched as the Hyperwave limped,sputtered… and wave after wave of missiles struck,blowing it apart.

Then it considered. It shifted its mountainous frame,flexed its bunched metacoiled musculature.

24

On the surface, the threat appeared to have beenneutralised, but where one Autobot craft had ventured,so might another… and another. It could not allow anydistraction now, no matter how small. Soon, its attentionwould be elsewhere, its destiny ruled by distant stars,and the slightest incursion might be enough to undo allit had striven for.

With a thought, it mobilised its massed armies, directingthem to strike at the very heart of the Autobot andDecepticon civilisations, wipe them from existence.

Perhaps, it decided, it should have done this a long timeago.

****

Beyond the wilderzones, a solitary Starpedo droppedout of a sub-space fold it had itself created, re-emergingat the farthest edge of the Hadean system.

Then, in accordance with its programming, it begantransmitting.

****

‘Jump?! That was your plan?’

‘Stay still,’ urged Perceptor, as he worked onreattaching Springer’s shattered left leg. ‘There’s a lotof damage.’

They were gathered on a high support stanchion,overlooking reservoirs full of molten cobalt. It was hard

25

to gauge their actual location, they were simply on oneof many such worlds, somewhere in this vast planetarynetwork.

‘Of course there’s a lot of damage,’ moaned Springer, Ijumped—or, rather, I was pushed, out of a speedingHyperwave at great height, hit three dynamo spires,went through one whole level of gantry, and fell into anore processor. I’m lucky to be alive!’

Springer fixed Grimlock with an accusing glare. ‘Whenyou said you had a plan, I expected a little moreinnovation!’

‘Me, I expected a little more bounce out of someonecalled Springer,’ replied Grimlock curtly, staring outacross the sprawling vista of massed factories, endlesslygrinding and processing. ‘We alive, aren’t we?’

And they were. There was no contesting that, Springerconceded ruefully to himself. Perceptor had locked apre-planned set of manoeuvres into the Hyperwave’sauto-pilot and on the very first low pass across one ofthe metal worlds they had baled out. Reluctantly on hispart. And here they were, but where were they?

‘It’s called the Hub,’ said Blaster, his voice awash withstatic and background noise. Releasing his audio unitconfiguration, he returned to robot mode in a fast three-step transformation. ‘There’s a whole mess oftransmissions being fired every which way across thisinterconnected network, but I managed to filter outenough to give us some idea of what’s where and how itall fits together.

26

‘We’re on something called G345 of Lateral TransverseString North-North-East. It’s basically one big ore-processing station, but get this — it wasn’t always thisway. In fact, originally it was an organic planet. It wasconquered, stripped and re-created, then linked up to therest of the Hub.’

Grimlock absorbed all this silently. ‘Remind you ofanything?’ queried Perceptor. ‘The technologyemployed is uncannily similar to that we, ah,appropriated from Commander Jhiaxus. And yet Jhiaxuswas destroyed by the Swarm.’

‘Then there something else,’ said Grimlock, ‘somethingbigger and badder than Jhiaxus, and it here.’

‘Lucky us,’ spat Springer, testing his realigned servo-joints. ‘What now, oh fearless leader?’

Grimlock looked skywards. ‘We wait for Swoop to getback from aerial reconnaisance, find way to very heartof Hub…

… and kick butt!’

****

Of course, it had to be Grimlock. Goes out to find a fewcubes of energon, uncovers a galaxy-wide conspiracy.

The telemetry from the S.A.D. had been processed andanalysed, and yet they still knew little or nothing ofwhat they were dealing with. A vast network of planets,

27

multi-form Transformers of some high order and designthey’d never encountered before. Ultra Magnus had theuncomfortable feeling that despite all they’d beenthrough, all they’d struggled and fought for, they wereonly now getting a hint of ‘the big picture’.

Jhiaxus. Magnus pulled up his file again. For all thathad happened, all that this one individual had instigated,the file was entirely too slender for his liking. Jhiaxushad cut a swathe across several far sectors of space,invading, colonising and creating little Cybertrons. Theynever knew why, or if he operated alone or underorders. But he’d hinted at another distinct breed ofTransformers, a whole race that had evolved in parallelto their own.

One thing was for sure, they’d been busy. The scale ofthis planetary network staggered and assaulted thesenses. But why, and to what end?

And how long before whoever or whatever controlled itall decided to do something about their toothlessbackwater cousins?

Magnus summoned the Autobot council. Despite theircurrently precarious situation energy-wise, he felt in nodoubt that they must mount an immediate and directresponse.

It was time to show that they could still bite back!

28

When the first attacks came, Soundwave was alreadydeep underground, and only distant tremors signalledthe commencement of hostilities. At first he’d assumed,as did many other Decepticons, that it was the Autobots,come to finish them off while they were at their mostvulnerable. It was, however, a very unAutobot-likething to do, and Soundwave quickly patched himselfinto the main surveillance grid for a look topside. Hesaw at once the attacking ships were not of Autobotdesign or configuration. In fact, they were unlikeanything he’d seen before.

Sleek, fast, heavily armed and possessing a myriadvariety of changeforms, the ships swept over in tightlyregimented waves, pounding the planet surface withplasma charges, targetting key defence and powerinstallations with pinpoint accuracy. Subsidiary feedsindicated they had already decimated New Cybertron’souter defence ring, destroying perimeter bases on theplanet’s six moons. Reports were coming in fromDecepticon outposts far and wide, all now under attack.

In response, ground and air units on New Cybertronmobilised, surface armaments opened fire and cloakedsatellites in orbit rained fire down on the enemy vessels.But it seemed to Soundwave that however many theydestroyed, more appeared to take their place.

Long-range intelligence reported another vast armada ofships heading for Cybertron, and the Autobots. Outercolonies had already engaged the enemy. Someone, itseemed, was intent on wiping them all out, regardless oftheir allegiance.

29

Instead of joining the fray, Soundwave moved deeperand deeper into the underground complex, his sense ofurgency further heightened by this new development.This area was known only to a select few. If theDecepticon High Council even suspected what theywere planning, they would all be summarily executed.

In a heavily shielded bunker, Soundwave surveyed theproject. The synthesis of cutting edge technology andarcanum was clear, and as always it disturbedSoundwave. Highly practical, he had never beencomfortable with the mystical elements of their heritage,but he acknowledged that without them this venture wasdoomed to failure. There was just too much at stake tolet some formless disquiet give him pause now.

‘We’re ready,’ announced Direwolf, as he fired upseveral sulphourous flames in carved niches set aroundthe central chamber. Direwolf possessed one of theforemost scientific minds in the new Decepticon order,but it was his experiences as a former acolyte ofUnicron and his intimate knowledge of the dark arts thathad led Soundwave to enlist his aid. No doubt Direwolfhad his own reasons for signing on, but Soundwave hadchosen not to over-analyse these.

All that mattered was that he rose again to lead them.

They were joined by fellow conspirators Ravage andRamjet, both of whom took up positions either side ofDirewolf. Soundwave joined them, taking up his ownpre-arranged station. It was hard to think of it as aprocedure, it had all the trappings and feel of a

30

ceremony. As Direwolf began to chant, and themachinery around them hummed into life, Soundwave’seyes were drawn to the huge, egg-shaped pod at theheart of a snarl of cables and ducting. It seemed topulse, seething with barely contained energy. Theambient atmospheric pressure rose steadily, a lowhumming filled the air, which was suddenly alive withcharged particles.

And within the pod, something began to stir…

****

It watched as its fleet carved a path through NewCybertron’s defences, announcing its presence in fire,chaos and destruction. Since the dawn of time it hadguarded both its existence and its grand design. Itsstrategy had been utterly focused, uncluttered by small-minded agendas or desires. Vanity, revenge, rage; thesewere for lesser beings. It had watched, amused, as itsown kind had waged war, on each other and againstother races, unaware of the tiny scale of their strugglesand ambitions, unable to see the intricate patternswoven on the cosmos by the beings that first breathedlife into them. As conflicts came and went, as despotsand monsters rose and heroes defied them, so itcontinued to build, to await the alignment.

And now, as distant stars positioned themselves in theheavens, mirroring the interconnected web of planets itcalled the Hub, so the Liege Maximo prepared…

...to become a god.

31

32

It was time.

Direwolf opened his chest casing, releasing seals andinsulation that protected his Spark, his lifeforce. Theothers, Soundwave included, did likewise.

One by one they approached the seething pod. Thelambent, darkly swirling energy seemed to sense theraw, potent force contained in each Spark, descendingon it hungrily. And as it fed, so they felt their lifeforcedrain, torn from the very substance of their being.

It was a little like dying.

But Direwolf had balanced his theorems andenchantments perfectly, and at a prearranged limit —the most they could possibly bear to lose and stillmaintain operational status — the feast turned sour, andthe energy cloud broke off its assault, retreating oncemore into the pod.

Where it gathered, incubating.

And as he watched, so Soundwave considered formerglories, a time when one name epitomised the sweepand majesty of the Decepticon forces, when its mereutterance provoked terror and awe.

The shape inside the pod moved, stretched. The oncerigid structure of the pod itself became pliable, viscous.Fingers clawed at it from within.

And Soundwave remembered, the glory of theircampaign, the utter ruthlessness with which it was

33

fought and won. Worlds, civilisations… all fell beforethat one name.

The pod ruptured, tore, and at last he emerged, re-born,augmented, more powerful than ever.

One name…

…Megatron!

End of book 1

34

AlignmentBook 2

35

The world around him was burning, a churning cauldron offire, war and destruction. On the ground, gaping craters bledboiling gasses high into the atmosphere, where the shatteredremains of vast starships lay tipped on their sides likewounded leviathans, venting flaming Stratofuel into space.Thunderous blasts continued to rock the planet surface, beamsof superheated plasma driving deep into the metallicovermantle.

To Megatron, striding purposefully through the conflagration,it felt like home.

Except it wasn’t. It looked like Cybertron, right down to thesuperbly detailed recreation of the fortress of Kolkular and itsfiery domed Grand Forum. But it was in actuality a hollowfacsimile, a towering indulgence plastered over depths ofdespair and desperation. New Cybertron — what a sad,misguided piece of blinkered self-mockery! Soundwave hadinformed him that the world was, in fact, called Pyrovar.Fleeing from the ruins of a campaign that had stripped them ofeverything: their world, their power, their resources — theDecepticons had come here, using what might they stillpossessed to subjugate and colonise. But all they had createdwas a testament to their folly, a reminder of their abjectfailure. And now judgement’s fire was raining down uponthem.

No one knew exactly who was attacking them… or why. NotSoundwave — whose loyalty extended to faithfully reclaimingMegatron's shattered body after his battle with Galvatron IIand preserving it in stasis. Not Direwolf — whose darksciences had brought him back from the brink of non-existence. And certainly not, it seemed, the whole of thecurrent Decepticon High Command — such as it was. There

36

37

had been no demands, no ultimatums, no communicationwhatsoever. Just wave upon wave of Multiform attack jets andvast Vanguard Command ships, tearing through outerplanetary defences, razing ground positions. And though theyhad resisted, responded with all the force and numbers theycould still muster, their attackers were legion. As one wavewas destroyed, another rolled in, and another. Neither was theattack limited to Pyrovar. Decepticon colonies far and widehad simply been wiped out, expunged without trace. Andlong-range scans indicated a secondary — or perhaps primary— fleet, attacking Cybertron itself.

But Megatron knew. Knew deep in his Spark Core. It was ashapeless, nameless knowledge, but one he had carried withhim for many millions of years. Something was out there,something had always been out there, waiting for just thismoment. It was old, older then they were, infinitely patientand utterly focused. And it was a part of them, a dark secretshunned and forgotten, coiled like a predatory beast in theircollective subconscious. It was a myth, a bogeyman, a packageof nightmares. In his mind he had faced it many times, staringit down. But now…

…now it was for real.

Smothering mounting dread with outrage and purpose,Megatron strode on, bound for the Grand Forum… and areckoning with those who had brought them to this!

****

38

It watched and felt nothing. It barely saw the scurrying,desperate creatures on the planet surface as they fought anddied, just experienced the totality of their fear and desperation.They were so close now to extinction and they knew it. Notconsciously perhaps, but deep down, in whatever recessedportion of brain still housed the archaeological sub-structure ofthe Transformer race. This was judgement day, the end ofeverything. For Pyrovar, for Cybertron, for the Autobots andthe Decepticons.

But for the Liege Maximo, it was just the beginning.

Satisfied that, on Pyrovar at least, matters were concludingsatisfactorily, it turned its attention to Cybertron. It could notafford to take anything for granted, it knew, the children ofPrimus had proven themselves resourceful and dangerous onmany previous occasions. This final movement had beorchestrated flawlessly, the cull needed to be total. TheAlignment was close now, the ultimate realisation of all itsdreams was here. Nothing could be allowed to distract it, noloose ends could be left. Their deaths…

… would herald its rebirth!

****

39

Ultra Magnus was unnervingly calm. It was a strangecontradiction, Prowl acknowledged to himself, but unsettlingall the same.

True, they’d been given fair warning. The telemetry from theSensory/Analytical Data pod that Grimlock had managed toget back to them had revealed the full scope of an enemythey’d barely known had existed. But even then, as they’dlooked through that window into a far sector of space, seen theimpossible range and scope of the planetary network there,he’d caught Magnus’s almost serene acceptance of it all. Likehe’d known.

And now, with Cybertron under siege, he was the same. It wasimpressive, sure, but also a little scary. As the first long rangereports came in of a massed fleet dropping out of foldspace,Magnus immediately began to pull back and decamp allAutobot forces from advance positions on the borders ofCybertronian space. In fact, Prowl had a sneaking suspicionthat this operation had actually started before the enemy fleeteven appeared. Certainly regional commanders such asSkydive, Hound and Trailbreaker began running tacticalprojections for such an eventuality immediately after theS.A.D.. pod was recovered and its data analysed. Autobotcolonies had likewise been evacuated.

Prowl himself had been kept busy, working around the clockto complete the energon shield generator. It was a grandioseproject, conceived in the wake of the war against Galvatron II,and still hugely experimental, but Magnus had insisted theydevote all resources to its full implementation. Naturallyenough, Prowl had stated the obvious: namely that withenergon stocks severely depleted, also in the aftermath of thewar, the shield was, in effect, their own worst enemy. To

40

maintain it for any length of time would be impossible, and inthe process they would be leeching the very reserves thatsustained and empowered them as transforming individuals.Once the shield failed, they would be utterly exposed,helpless, unable to even fight back. Magnus was adamant: hewanted the shield operational, whatever the cost. ‘If all goes toplan,’ he’d muttered cryptically, ‘we won’t need it for long.’Prowl didn’t press the issue, he’d just gone to work, but a partof him worried still. If only Prime were fit and able. If onlythey could draw on his wisdom and knowledge. If only…

And now, as the enemy fleet swept towards Cybertron,blasting through perimeter defences as if they didn’t exist,Prowl stared alternately at the data/tactical readouts and UltraMagnus. On the one hand, the TAC-scans showed over amillion — and counting — attacking vessels, each exhibiting aminimum of six, increasingly lethal, changeforms, and athousand or more Vanguard class battle warships. On theother, Ultra Magnus was a picture of composure. He justwatched them come, the same bland, detached expression onhis face. Finally, he turned to Prowl.

‘Activate the energon shield,’ was all he said. Prowl sighed.Despite everything, he hoped it wouldn’t come to this. As heturned to the controls, keying in the start-up sequence, hewondered again if Ultra Magnus had simply given up,accepted the inevitability of their fate. Prime, he thoughtagain. Prime would have thought of something, somethingbetter than this. If only…

****

41

At the very heart of the Hub, the Liege Maximo watched. Avast energy shield had appeared around Cybertron, and for themoment it was resisting the cull. No matter. The movesmacked of desperation, of futile last efforts. A mentalcommand diverted more ships to the shield, their combinedfirepower now enough to destroy a whole planet. The shield, itcalculated, must be burning huge amounts of energon, andwould soon buckle under the onslaught. When that happened,Cybertron would be helpless. The Autobot commander hadmade a huge tactical error, it reasoned. Had he scattered hisforces, it would have meant the Liege Maximo expending timeand effort on the hunt. But now, with the Autobots all in onetarget area, the matter could be concluded in mere moments. Itimagined the shield generator running hot, the supply ofenergon dwindling. So close now, everything was comingtogether.

Anticipating the end, the Liege Maximo moved the remainderof the fleet forward, into the vast asteroid field that fringedCybertron in a loose semi-circle. Thunder roared in its brain,its vast body shimmered and pulsed. The Alignment… It wasclose!

****

‘Are we there yet?’ moaned Grimlock for the thousandth time.Or so it seemed to Springer, who spat a curt, ‘does it look likeit?’ in his general direction. Perceptor had, as was his nature,been keeping a somewhat more accurate count. It was actuallyonly the nineteenth time of asking, but he shared Springer’sgeneral frustration with their Group Commander.

They were in fact, still some distance from their destination,namely Junction 654 of intersecting obverse transit tubeways

42

East 16 and South East 214. To call the Hub big was thehugest of understatements, it was impossibly vast, andcovering any significant distance was a monumentalproposition. But, at least, thanks to a combined effort ofSwoop’s aerial reconnaissance, Blaster’s monitoring ofinternal transmissions, and the schematics Perceptor himselfhad managed to download, they did know where they were,and had a destination and plan in mind.

The Hub covered several light years of space, and only sheerfluke had landed them this close to the mid-point of itsunfolding geometry. When they’d bailed out from theircrippled Hyperwave, the expanse of the Hub had yawnedbefore them in all possible directions. A three-dimensionalconstruct, it expanded across, up and down, such as thesedefinitions were applicable in outer space. Thousands andthousands of metal planets, all identical except in mass, allinter-connected via transit tubeways and filament arteries. Aweb of little Cybertrons, stretching as far as the eye could see.By examining and interpolating data downloaded from thevast computer network that maintained and directed the Hub,they had managed to identify a fairly critical junction, arouting station for huge amounts of energy: J654.

It was clear that the Hub served some purpose, to someone orsomething, and that someone or something had shot them outof the sky. That it believed them dead, and had not sent shipsto verify the kill, meant that it was either vulnerable oroverconfident, both weaknesses that Grimlock wished toexploit. Junction 654, or simply J654, was also a weaknessGrimlock wished to take advantage of. It was, Perceptor hadcalculated, the optimum point at which to initiate acatastrophic chain reaction, or — in Grimlock’s parlance —blow a very big hole in the Hub. That they wouldn’t

43

themselves survive the detonation seemed acceptable. Theyunderstood, deep down, they were all now living on borrowedtime.

As they moved on, a solemn silence descended, each alonewith their thoughts. Past glories, battles fought and won,triumphs and tragedies, the tapestry of a life stretching backover four million years. There were no regrets, not forPerceptor, and he guessed, not for the others. Conflict wastheir life, and ultimately it would be the death of them. No oneexactly envisaged some amiable dotage on a retirement world.The silence stretched over a succession of interminable, nigh-on identical tubeways, until, inevitably…

‘Are we there yet? Muttered Grimlock.

****

It was infinitely patient. It had waited from almost the dawn oftime itself. But now, as the Alignment drew ever nearer, itexperienced a sensation not unalike impatience, borderingeven on unease. So close now, the waiting so very nearlydone. First the purge, the utter annihilation of its once andformer race. And then… ascension.

Countless millennia and it all came down to this. It thoughtback, allowed itself a rare moment of reverie. It was of thefirst, born of the living form of Primus. The distilled essenceof a god had coursed through its systems, flooded itsconsciousness. It understood, even back then, that its destinywas not that chosen for it by Primus. It understood the GrandPlan, but where others chose to sub-divide their physicalbeing, create further generations of Transformers, the LiegeMaximo did not. It contained its awesome power, chose its

44

own course, its own timetable. It understood what Primus hadnot: that the universal balance demanded a yang for every yin.The darkness was a living thing within it.

It shrank away from the light, let its few selective offspringspread like a malaise through the Transformer race. And assuccessive generations moved further away from their godlyorigins, so the Liege Maximo sought to return to that state. Itwatched as the Cybertronian nation evolved, saw its taintmove down through the generations to spawn first Megatronand ultimately the Decepticons. And all the while, its ownresearches into the dark origins of the universe continued,revealing a pattern, a unique alignment of stars that signalledthe intersection of a much older reality with their own. Heredwelt gods, and the Liege Maximo desired nothing more thanto ascend to that reality, to become a god. And so the buildingof the Hub began, a resonant structure designed to open aportal to the world beyond.

That their own universe would be destroyed in the process wasreally of little or no concern to the Liege Maximo.

****

Within the Grand Forum on Pyrovar, the fragments of theDecepticon High Council stood and watched as their worldwas consumed. Thousands upon thousands of their warriorshad perished, their fleet and defences were all but gone. This,they thought, was how it ends… in fire and destruction, at thewhim of foe they did not even know. They were right, andthey were wrong.

‘We must leave,’ said Sabrejaw, breaking the heavy silence. Itwas, of course, unthinkable to consider retreat, unthinkable to

45

abandon the troops who fought on still and the world they hadcreated. But every one of them was thinking exactly that. Hecould see it on their faces: Shrapnel, Stormfront, Mantissa,Mindgame, Killzone. They all knew, accepted the inevitabilityof their situation. Fight or flight. The latter was the onlyoption.

Sabrejaw didn’t wait for an answer, just gathered his masterkeypad, complete with its cache of location codes and madefor the high, arched exit gates. He had already secretly firedoff several dummy missiles, each with its own stolen payloadof energon. He would track them down and start anew, with orwithout the others, on a new world, ripe for conquest.

He threw open the gates, stepping out into a wide atrium,under the solemn, watchful gaze of sculptures depictingformer Decepticon leaders. Below, a transit pod was waiting…and Sabrejaw hurried towards the nearby gravity stairs. PastStraxus, Trannis, Shockwave, Scorponok. Sabrejaw's stepquickened, uncomfortable under their chiselled scrutiny. PastBludgeon, Galvatron, Megatron…

To the following entourage, it seemed as if the final sculpturehad come to life. Sabrejaw slowed, stopped, gaped. Then historso disintegrated, shredded by a sudden burst ofsupercharged protons. His Spark flared briefly, and wasconsumed. What little remained of him collapsed into a heapon the floor, sparking and spitting furiously.

Through the evaporated remains came Megatron, large as lifeand dressed to kill. His scorching gaze took in them all, layingbare their fear and shame. ‘Gulity’, was all he said…

46

Stormfront was the first react and therefore the first to die. Hereached for his concussion cannon, deactivated the magno-clamps that secured it to his thigh, and raised it to fire. Atleast, that’s what his mind told him had happened. In fact, hegot no further than the briefest of hand motions, a slighttwitch, before Megatron fried him with six million dekawattsof raw electrical power. Shrapnel wisely dropped to his knees,bowing his head and hailing the second coming of Megatron,while silently praying for his own, miserable hide. Hetherefore missed seeing the six laser-targeted missiles thatlaunched from Megatron’s left shoulder-silo, seeking out anddestroying both Mantissa and Mindgame. Killzone faredmarginally better, managing to loose off two, whirlingcyberscythes. These, though, glanced harmlessly offMegatron’s tri-neutronic armour, and a moment later Killzonetoo was gone, a cloud of vapour briefly marking the spot onwhich he’d been standing.

Slowly, hesitantly, Shrapnel risked an upward glance.Megatron towered over him, silent as the grave. He was,Shrapnel noted peripherally, his functional mind consumedwith utter dread, significantly bigger than before, and heavilyaugmented in terms of firepower. It didn’t bode well.

‘Tell them,’ growled Megatron finally, ‘tell them all that Ihave returned... and tell them everything that has happenedhere. Spare no detail.’ He paused, focused briefly on nearbytactical readouts and viewscreens, then continued: ‘Gather theremaining unit commanders, but have them first withdraw allremaining troopers to level six bunkers. And find me someoneproficient in flight mechanics.’

‘Move!’ yelled Megatron, and Shrapnel shot to his feet, eagerto obey. Hope blossomed, both for his own immediate chances

47

of survival and for some kind of long-term future for theDecepticon race as a whole. Megatron was back!

****

During the long trek, J654 had taken on a somewhat mythicalaspect in the minds of the four Autobots and their Dinobotcommander. And yet, somewhat disappointingly, it was aslong, bland and featureless as the preceding stretches ofinterior transit tubeway.

‘You sure this is right place,’ asked Grimlock, surveying anarea which looked for all the world exactly like the stretchesthrough which they had recently passed. Perceptor was sure,but rather than rise to Grimlock’s unsubtle bait, he removed anaccess panel and set to work.

Springer hunkered down with him to watch. ‘Are you sure wewon’t be detected?’ he queried. ‘It seems strange, this wholevast place and no security, no surveillance, no guards.’

Perceptor considered, simultaneously viewing the interiorworkings on several distinct levels: analytical, tactical,spectroscopic, functional. There did indeed seem to be nohidden security devices or failsafes. When previously he hadaccessed the Hub’s mainframe, he simply concluded that thesub-system pathways he had chosen had not meritedsafeguards or security. The sheer scale of the operationperhaps prohibited such intricacies. But this… this was aprimary juncture, a critical part of the Hub’s operationalsuperstructure. There had to be something.

So he looked, and looked again. Scanned on every frequencyand wavelength, ran searches for redundant systems which

48

masked alarms or ‘hot’ circuitry. Was the owner of this placeso supremely confident of its own invulnerability that it justhadn’t bothered at all? If so, then they were about to teach it aconsiderable lesson in humility.

Finally, Perceptor stepped back from the access hatch,satisfied. ‘The area is clear,’ he reported. ‘We can proceed.’

Blaster had been busy on the long journey to J654, preparing ainvasive transmitter, cobbled together from his own back-upmechasystems. Powered by a tiny fragment of energon, it wasdesigned to feed new routing pathways to the main computer,diverting the massive flow of energy through a smaller, morevulnerable junction. The safety relays would burn out almostinstantly, creating a sudden surge into the local reactor core.Instant meltdown. Such was the focal nature of J654, theexplosion would wash back through the system, gatheringforce as it went. It would, Perceptor had calculated, destroynearly 0.5643 percent of the Hub, leaving a colossal gapinghole the size of a small galaxy. In Grimlock’s words, ‘that hadto hurt!’

Taking the transmitter from Blaster, Perceptor carefully paredback the cables leading into J654’s main processing cluster.Around him, Grimlock, Blaster, Springer and Swoop tensed,waiting perhaps for the sudden clamour of alarms.

Nothing.

Perceptor aligned and primed the transmitter, soldering thefinal connections. It pulsed green, active and ready. They hadonly to align its frequency with the Hub’s subsonics and waitfor the fireworks.

49

‘Me proud have to fought and died with you all,’ mumbledGrimlock in terms of a brief eulogy. And that was it.

****

‘She’s going to go,’ shouted Prowl, as the safety interlocks onall three generators glowed hot. ‘Even if we had the juice,enemy firepower is stressing the shield’s ergostructure beyondtolerance levels.’

In the Arc, a curving sweep of tactical stations built under theCybertronian capital city, Iacon, Ultra Magnus allowed anedge of tenseness to creep into his voice. ‘Find me something,’he urged, as power conduits began to pop and fizz, andcooling vents blew billowing clouds of dark smoke. ‘We needa few moments more…’

‘For what?’ cried Prowl, in exasperation more than anger. ‘It’sover… finished.’

Magnus just stared, his expression bleak. A digital readoutrelayed information from beyond the shield. The enemy fleetwas massing, approaching through the asteroid field, ready forits final assault. Magnus grimaced, his shoulders slumped as ifunder a crushing weight. Prowl was right.

He was out of options.

50

Above Pyrovar, the Commander of the primary Vanguardassault ship registered multiple launches from the planetsurface. Several huge Decepticon battlecruisers — previouslyidle because of their lack of manoeuvrability against smaller,single attack modes — were ascending towards them. Tacticalscans read a full crew complement aboard each. TheCommander didn’t even need a prompt from the LiegeMaximo to know that this really was the Decepticons’ last,desperate shot across their bows. Six pocket Strike squadronsengaged the battlecruisers and systematically blew each out ofthe sky.

The Commander immediately initiated a mass landing on theplanet surface. Though clearly the Decepticons were now allbut wiped out, the Liege Maximo had demanded a total purge.Any stragglers were to be hunted down and terminated.

****

Around Cybertron, the Liege Maximo’s fleet hoveredpatiently. The shield was almost gone, Soon the purge couldbegin. Around them, the thousands of drifting asteroids weremute witnesses to the chaos and destruction about to unfold.

****

Within the Hub, Grimlock and the others looked at each other,braced for the inevitable. The moment stretched, until…

‘Er… why are we still alive?’ asked Springer. No one knew.The transmitter was aligned and functioning properly, but sofar nothing. Then, subtly, it began, a tremor in the groundbeneath their feet, growing in intensity, building into a steady,rhythmic thumping, distant at first and soon almost deafening.

51

But it was wrong, very wrong. Neither noise nor vibrationwere coming from the Hub’s internal systems. Instead, thegrowing clamour was coming from the conduit around them,the walls vibrating to the thunderous beat of advancing feet.Lots of feet.

They’d been detected. Somehow. Something, Perceptor knew,he had missed. Around the distant bend in the tubeway camean army of troopers, ranks and ranks of them. Vast, lethal,stamped out an almost identical mould, their mass filled thebroad tubeway from one side to the other.

Perceptor stole what little time they had to scan thetransmitter. It was still active, but somewhere within thelabyrinthine mass of connections and circuits its signal wasbeing blocked. And it, whatever it was, knew they were here.

****

It responded much like any living organism. The Hub was asmuch a part of the Liege Maximo as its own physical form. Itsnervous and arterial systems spread throughout the length andbreadth of its resonant superstructure. The Hub had sensitiveareas, which — if attacked — instinctively reacted to thethreat, closing down pathways, releasing viral antibodies. Anysignificant infection was purged in moments. Its consciousmind was only peripherally aware of the threat at all.

The Liege Maximo had bigger fish to fry.

On Cybertron, its fleet was poised. So intent was it on thefailing shield, it didn’t notice the asteroids as they began todeviate from their natural drift. Didn’t notice the distinctlymechanical elements built into them. On Pyrovar, its fleet had

52

touched down, the surface sweeps in progress, but there wasno trace at all of a single remaining Decepticon… at least, nolive ones. Could they all have been destroyed? On Cybertron,the shield had failed, the fleet readied for the assault. OnPyrovar, it registered a sudden build up of energy under thesurface, a fission of unstable elements broiling in some lethalchemical soup. On Cybertron, it registered the sudden buzz ofmechanical activity around its ships, the odd configuration ofthe asteroids, the thrum of connection.

On both fronts, it screamed mental commands…

…too late.

****

Beneath the surface of Pyrovar, vast thermo-cyclonic chargesdetonated, the planet dissolving into a fiery mass that seemedto fold in on itself, mushrooming in reverse… before boomingoutward in great waves of destructive force, ripping throughthe atmosphere, pushing out into space. The forces on theground were gone instantly, the spaceborne ships a momentlater. Around the core of the explosion, gravity collapsed in onitself, compressing local space into a superdense hole. Inmoments, Pyrovar and the surrounding several light years ofspace were gone.

Around Cybertron, laser weaponry built into the orbitingasteroids hummed into sudden, savage life. Across the void,targeting sensors aligned via a remote signal, and an instantlater beams of super-hot accelerated particles tracked a deadlyweb between the asteroids, slicing cleanly through anything intheir way. Which, in this case, was the Liege Maximo’s fleet.Ship after ship was cleaved, engine cores ruptured, life support

53

destroyed. Multiple explosions tore through the fleet, shipscareening brokenly into each other, adding to the carnage. Andfrom Cybertron itself, multiple launches: hyperwaves, shuttles,missiles, jet mode attack configurations. The Autobotspunched their way through the shattered invasion force,sweeping out into space.

****

It reeled, shuddered, taking the loss of each single vessel, eachwarrior, as a physical blow. But more, it felt the full enormityof the timing and all it entailed. Not now… not now!

****

At a pre-arranged staging area, hidden deep within a gaseousnebula, strange apparitions drifted through clouds of methaneand nitrogen. In slow stages, these wraithlike shapes becamemore solid, defined, until finally they were revealed as shortrange Decepticon stealth vessels. In the lead ship, Megatronstared hard at the forward viewscreen, probing the roilingclouds ahead of them. If all had gone to plan, by now Pyrovarwould be so much cosmic dust, and its passing would havetaken all or most of the attacking fleet with it.

But still he exercised extreme caution. The successfuloperation of the stealth cocoon required minimal power outageand silent running, so they had been unable to keep a sensorlock on Pyrovar and survey the aftermath of Megatron’simprovised handiwork.

He had moved fast, pulling back his forces and evacuating instaged launches in cloaked ships, just as his dummy attackfleet had itself lifted off. Remote controlled from the planet

54

surface by some ‘volunteers’, the empty battlecruisers hadfurther been rigged to display — to any intrusive sensor sweep— a full crew complement. It was a fragile illusion. A morethorough check would have revealed the ghost sensor dataimmediately, but he had banked on the enemy’s illusion of itsown invulnerability. The enemy commander had no doubtassumed, falsely, that they would fight and die for their world.But it was not their world, it had never been. And ultimately, itwas expendable.

Ahead now, Megatron saw a huge shape, emerging from thevery heart of the nebula. Sensors were useless. If he hadjudged wrong, if the enemy had second-guessed him. But, asthe Warworld neared, Blitzwing announced an incomingtransmission:

‘Commander Megatron,’ came Soundwave’s distorted voice.‘We await your command.’

Megatron considered. He had four Warworlds — planet-sizedengines of destruction salvaged by Soundwave and othersympathisers from Galvatron II’s insane campaign — everyscrap of raw energon they could lay their hands on, and a crewlooking for payback. It made sense to bide their time, gatherfresh stocks of weaponry and energon, re-build their powerbase. But Megatron was under no illusions. He knew it wasn’tover… and he knew that time was not on their side. It wouldtake every scrap of energon to power the four Warworldsacross the galaxy, to track back along a trajectory extrapolatedfrom the enemy ships’ original flight path, but Megatron wassure. If they hesitated… they would be lost.

‘Bring us aboard,’ said Megatron at last, ‘and prepare toengage hyperspace engines. We take the fight to the enemy…’

55

The course was locked in, based on the telemetry fromGrimlock’s S.A.D.. pod, the hyperspace engines engaged.Next stop… enemy space, and a foe whose numbers werequite possibly legion. Ultra Magnus watched as the starfieldahead of them warped and stretched. It felt like they wererushing headlong towards extinction. But what choice did theyhave? These were desperate times, and as he had alreadydemonstrated, they called for desperate measures.

Prowl and Jazz were watching him. He knew what they werethinking, knew they questioned his methods and strategy, andin truth he did also. For a start, he had kept all but a select fewcompletely in the dark during the construction of the asteroidlaser grid. When they received the telemetry from the S.A.D.pod, Magnus immediately instigated a huge upgrade to theirplanetary defences. In his heart, he knew Optimus would nothave approved, knew the tactic smacked of Decepticon, and sohe kept the plan and its implementation from the formerAutobot leader’s most trusted lieutenants. They would onlyhave questioned, and in doing so made him doubt. And thatluxury he could not allow, not now.

There was simply no room for hesitation, for compassion. Notwith the end so near at hand.

****

It wondered if they knew… on some innate, instinctive level.It was still attempting to come to terms with the loss of nearlyhalf its forces. They were coming. There was no doubt. Theysensed that running and hiding was not an option, and thattheir last desperate hope lay in direct confrontation. The LiegeMaximo gathered itself for the coming battle, surveyed itsoptions. They were too late of course, events begun tens of

56

millions of years ago were gathering pace. It just made matterssomewhat more complex, divided its attention. In point of fact,in the confusion of events at Cybertron and Pyrovar, it had lostits internal focus, lost a tiny thread within the Hub itself.

Grimlock and his companions had gone to ground.

****

In truth, Grimlock, Perceptor, Swoop, Blaster and Springerwere anything but gone to ground. The confusion of events atJ654 was behind them, but they knew they’d had a luckyescape. They’d run — what else could they have done againstthe massed forces that had thundered towards them? — and,following Perceptor’s schematics, had headed for the highground, believing some last stand may now be their onlyoption. But the expected pursuit had not materialised, and theirascent to the top of a huge raised gantry known only as theAlpha-Epsilon Overloop, had been unhampered.

Again they wondered: did the architect of this hugeconstruction simply not consider them any kind of threat?Truth be told, it was beginning to tick them all off.

From the Overloop they could view a vast swathe of the Hub,particularly a colossal dome, the size of half a small moon,perched at a mass confluence of power conduits. The domewas framed by a semi-circle of towers, atop which sat hugesatellite receptor dishes, thousands of them. Everything aboutthe Hub led here, to this place.

Grimlock was brooding… or thinking. It was hard to tellsometimes. Blaster was looking at ways to send a boosteddistress signal out into the space towards Cybertron, but the

57

distances involved were monumental. It would certainly takemore time than they had… everyone was aware of that.Perceptor was poring over endless design schematics,searching for another flaw. Swoop and Springer just paced,waiting for something to happen.

They didn’t have to wait long. There was a sudden flurry ofactivity below, as — from countless portals in countlesssections of the Hub — enemy troopers began to exit. Themassed ranks were heading for the dome, which itself hadstarted to open, its sides flowing back in a strangely organicfashion. They stood and stared, open-mouthed, as the thingwithin the dome hauled itself upright. It was huge, perhapstechno-organic in nature, with long, curled horns andprotrusions masking its bestial face. Eyes, as old the universe,burned from the darkness, its mouth seethed with molten fury,dribbling over dagger-like teeth. One arm was truncated,ending in a cannon fuelled, it seemed to them, by a small sun.They were seasoned warriors all, but each one of them felt achill that struck deep into their primeval being. This was thestuff of nightmares!

And as the throng neared, and gathered, it spread the fingers ofits one hand wide, gesturing. In response, countless thousandsof bodies lifted into the air, a suddenly suspendedcongregation. The nearest figure to them, though some gooddistance away in real terms, suddenly began to shudder andtwitch, its body spasming. Its chest seemed to warp, blister,and then suddenly its Spark, its lifeforce, erupted from within,torn out by unseen fingers. The Spark, a brilliant ball ofphosphorescence, hovered for a brief moment, and then wassucked forward towards the creature in the dome.

58

Everywhere they looked, the process was repeated, the masscull suffusing the creature with the energy of countless Sparks.It twisted in a savage ecstasy, its bulk pulsing and growing.And, as its influence drew back in, so the lifeless husks fellaway, like discarded shells. It was over and done in seconds,but to the watching Autobots it felt like an eternity.

Springer was the first to speak: ‘What in Primus’s name do wedo now?”

Silence greeted him. Springer turned, agitated. ‘Grimlock,how do we fight that?’

But Grimlock was gone.

****

Around it the Hub shimmered into coruscating life, resonatingwith the power of several million Sparks. What it had oncegiven… it now took back.

Above, the stars seemed to glow brighter, as if some celestialcontact had been established. The Liege Maximo felt the firstwrench, a dizzying pull at the very substance of its being. Itknew it was changing, becoming different. The physical lawsthat had bound it began to slip away, its consciousnessexpanded across multiple plains to encompass the enormity ofother realities, other possibilities.

Above, the heavens themselves seem to warp, a tidal wave ofunreality spreading like a virus through the substance of spaceand time. And at its epicentre, a portal began to form. It had nosubstance, no shape, no definable event horizon, but it

59

assaulted the senses, pulling and tugging at the Liege Maximolike some hungry predator.

For a long, protracted period it resisted, fought, struggled,hung on to the roots it had laid down in what it understood asreality. If it was not ready, not fully acclimatised to its newstate of unbeing, it would be destroyed, consumed. It neededtime, while time still had any meaning, to encompass themyriad contradictions and absurdities, it needed…

The savage howl snapped it back, fast, the connection broken.It turned, confused, looked up…

… to see Grimlock dropped towards it, off one of the towers,energo sword raised above his head. Grimlock howled,screamed, and struck – a mighty blow, and one that inactuality the Liege Maximo barely felt. But it had been struck,and that thought burned with outrage and shock. This insect,this tiny microbe, had attacked it. For a lurching moment, itfought the pull of the stellar portal, resisted the change. Itneeded but an instant more in this physical realm, a tiny,infinitesimal moment…

… to snuff out a life.

****

Swoop watched, appalled, as the creature shifted inGrimlock’s direction. He stepped back, ready to transform, tofly. Meaning to bridge the gulf of space between him and hisCommander and join the struggle. But he knew, even beforePerceptor grabbed his arm, that he would never make it intime. It wouldn’t have stopped him, but he knew — they allknew — that Grimlock was already dead.

60

In fact, it was over before Perceptor’s hand even made contactwith Swoop’s arm. The blink of eye, perhaps not even that.Grimlock was there… and then he wasn’t. A gesture, perhaps,from the creature? It was hard to be sure, but Grimlock just…popped, exploded into his component atoms it seemed, andwas just gone.

They stared, stunned. Swoop struggled against Perceptor’sgrasp, but others were holding him now, shouting at him. Thewords were muffled background noise, muted by shock andrage. He thrashed, fought, cried, and then subsided, saggedlike some stringless puppet. Finally, Perceptor’s words startedto penetrate…

‘—to me, just listen. Grimlock showed us, what we have todo.’

Swoop pulled back, focused. ‘What?’ he choked. ‘Showed uswhat?’

‘That at this stage of the proceedings,’ Perceptor urged, ‘anydistraction, no matter how small, may be enough!’ Hegestured wide, at the full sweep of the Hub. ‘We’ve beenlooking at this all wrong, trying to do as much damage to theHub as possible. But if I’m right, if this whole constructionhas some kind of stellar resonance, then perhaps any damagewill do. Do you see?’

Swoop saw. Shrugging off Springer and Blaster, he staggeredaway, stopped, almost fell. Gripping a support girder so hardhis fingers sunk deep into the metal, he turned, snarled…

‘Show me where to start!’

61

It began again, shrugging off its brief flirtation with anger,focusing again on the widening portal. The universe aroundthem was wounded, crying out in pain, dying. Its agoniesassaulted its new senses, ran fingernails down its expandednervous system, but it remained resolute. Reality bubbled andboiled away, became distant white noise. It reached out totouch its destiny…

…and was rejected.

It fell, hard, back to harsh, unforgiving order and structure.What had happened? And then it saw, the small, mushroomingcloud from lateral transverse string D1089, an explosion. TheHub had been damaged, the pattern disturbed. With a thought,it began to repair the breach, a swarm of repair dronesdescending on D1089. But as the flaw rapidly disappeared,another blast, on the interlink world of Pi Omega4. Small,again easily dealt with. But the situation clearly demanded amore permanent remedy. It marked the position of the twoexplosions, defined a possible search radius, and isolated theenclosed area. Then it raised a cadre of troopers from thefallen legion, restored their Sparks, and sent them directly todeal with the infection.

****

Perceptor was hard at work. His target was a power couplingbetween two transverse strings. If he could just burn out thebuffer system, it would melt through into the fuel lines andcatch fire. As the fuel burned, the vapour would superheat thegassy deposits from the surface processor and they’d have anice big explosion.

62

63

He was in a crawlspace between walls, about three sub-levelsdown from the surface. Though it was a tight squeeze, therewas just about room to manoeuvre, and Perceptor felt a certainsecurity in the enclosed area. Above, he had witnessed horrorsand events that ran at odds with his ultra-logical, matter-of-fact, mind. In here it was sane, and safe, cocooned in coldscience and hard technology.

Reaching for a power coupling, Perceptor felt a sudden dullvibration on the opposite side of the wall, as if something hadhit it. Then something did — hard. The impact bowing in thethick metal, denting it inward. Moments later there was asecond blow, then a third, each time another section of thewall moved inward, narrowing the space. Suddenly it becamean onslaught, multiple impacts. The noise was deafening, all-encompassing. Then one impact found its target, and Perceptorwas slammed against the opposing surface, pinned. They werehitting the wall, he realised as his brain unfroze, caught up,they were pummelling the wall! The sound and effortintensified, and Perceptor felt the impacts crunch into hisbody. Again and again, a relentless barrage, he was beingsqueezed to death.

Finally, mercifully, a section of indented wall drove throughhis main neural plating, and there was silence.

****

Nothing. Not a word now, from any of the others. It had beentoo long. Perceptor had been clear, maintain radio contact atall times, once an objective had been achieved, notify andmove on to the next target. Hit and run. But there’d beennothing, not from Perceptor, not from Springer, not fromBlaster. None of them answered his hails.

64

Swoop knew he was on his own.

He checked his position on a small internal sensor readout. Hewas, he realised, not far from J654, and he wonderedfleetingly about their previous efforts in the area. Thetransmitter was still there, and according to Perceptor had stillbeen active. Was there a way to override whatever wasblocking its signal, bypass the locked out area?

Swoop froze. Close by he felt movement, a change in aircurrents. Carefully, he shuffled sideways, out onto a smallobservation platform. And just in time. Thirty or more heavilyarmed troopers appeared, sweeping the area. Swoop keptabsolutely still. They were using motion detectors, probingwalls, floors, ceilings and bulkheads with scanning beams.They moved closer.

There was nowhere to go, but at least out here he could takeflight. How far would he get, Swoop wondered, before theypicked him off? He had witnessed them transform into whathad seemed like a multitude of airborne forms, bigger andfaster than his. They would run him to ground in moments. Heslowly, carefully set his blaster to maximum. He would notrun. He would go out fighting.

On they came, closer still, and Swoop levelled his weapon,finger tensed on the trigger. One, two, three maybe… four ifluck was with him. Whatever the case, some of them weregoing down with him. Inside, a sensor clicked hot, whining.He had been spotted.

Then, suddenly, they were moving off, pulling back. Sometrick to draw him out, perhaps? But no, why bother? There

65

could be no mistake, they were going, and with some urgency.A sudden lightshow high in the sky due east drew Swoop’sattention and he understood.

The cavalry had arrived.

****

Four Warworlds, sixteen Hyperwaves, three thousand or soairborne attack modes, the Liege Maximo assessed the threatas it came under sudden and sustained fire. It felt theAlignment shift, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement in thepattern of stars above him. It knew it could destroy them all…but could it do it quickly enough? The window of opportunitywas passing, and would not present itself again for anothervast span of time.

Furious, it turned on the nearest Warworld, charged its solarcompactor and fired. The Warworld weathered the blast… butonly just. Its shielding failed, and the energy feedbackpunctured gaping wounds in its hull. The Liege Maximocharged the solar compactor, fired again… and the Warworlddisappeared in a colossal fireball.

It would not be denied… it would not be denied!

****

What was it Perceptor had said? ‘Any distraction, nomatter how small, may be enough’. Well, Swoopguessed that being hammered by a fleet of Hyperwavesand several Warworlds counted as slightly more thanjust ‘any distraction’, even given the sheer scale of thecreature.

66

Back at J654, Swoop examined the transmitter. Perhapshe could boost the output, perhaps what was blockingthe signal was the creature itself. Perhaps distracted, thecreature would not be able to counter-check in time.

Perhaps he was just fooling himself. Perhaps he wasclutching at straws. Still…

****

A second Warworld was burning, two Hyperwaves weregone, but the assault continued, from all angles. Withthe exception of the Warworlds, which lackedmanoeuvrability, the attacking ships were hitting hardand fast, then retreating to a safe distance, flanked by asecond wave. But overall, the attack was undisciplined,unfocused, highlighting the glaring division between theAutobots and the Decepticons. No side was talking tothe other, and that only benefited the Liege Maximo.

They were not hurting it, at least not so far, but theywere keeping its attention away from the portal. It knewit had to end this… swiftly.

****

So focused was the Liege Maximo on the larger battle,it did not notice the lone, drifting shuttle pod as itcoasted in on its own momentum, landing on a nearbytower.

From within, Megatron emerged. His recreated,augmented form was awash with energy, his being

67

suffused with more power than it could truly tolerate.He had spent the entire journey from the nebula,absorbing and breaking down raw energon, stockpilinga vast reserve of destructive force. He would, he knew,only get one shot. He had to make it count.

****

‘Why won’t they talk to us?’ lamented Ultra Magnus.

Aboard one of the Hyperwaves, Ultra Magnus watchedwith increasing frustration as another ship was downed.The creature was deflecting their attacks with some kindof focused mental energy. They were annoying it, buthaving little or no telling effect.

What they needed, clearly, was a concerted attack, butnow two of the Decepticon Warworlds had beendestroyed, and the other two had maintained a distinctradio silence. It seemed the Decepticons were lockedinto their own strategy, and all they were doing wasgetting in each other’s way.

Suddenly the bridge console buzzed. They were beinghailed by one of the Warworlds. ‘At last,’ breathedMagnus, and turned to see a screen image ofSoundwave.

‘It is time,’ he announced with great solemnity, beforeMagnus could even speak. He continued: ‘I amtransmitting encoded attack coordinates. You willfollow our lead and not deviate from the strategy.’ Andwith that, he was gone.

68

Streetwise looked up from his tactical array. ‘Got ‘em,’he said. ‘You want me to implement all this?’

Ultra Magnus considered, slowly nodded his head. Whynot? After all, what now had they really got to lose?

****

It detected the new attack vector almost immediately,calculated the variables. The focus of the assault wasnow all on its right flank, another huge tactical error. Itscanned local space, searching for cloaked ships orhidden vessels. Nothing. They were still falling overeach other, implementing overlapping stratagems thatcancelled each other out. They had made it so easy for itto destroy them all.

It focused its mental reserves, channelled them into aright-facing defence, and powered up its solarcompactor. As the first Hyperwaves came into range,flanking the two Warworlds, it prepared to fire. Onewell-placed shot…

****

One shot, thought Megatron and fired. The creature wasturned away from it, mustering its defences for arighthand attack. Megatron shot it in the left flank, theconcentrated beam of charged ions punching into itsarmoured hide just below its arm, exiting at an anglethrough the front chest plating. It staggered, roared…turned towards him. He saw recognition, fear, anger…and then only the savage white light of an explodingsun.

69

The Liege Maximo was hurt… it was actually hurt. Thesensation was new, shocking. Megatron. Its owncreation, its own twisted spawn. The savage irony of itall. It had destroyed the offending creation, but thedamage was done. It was wounded, perhaps critically.He had to leave this tired, battered physical form andrise. It had to reach the portal, by sheer force of will ifnecessary. His physical form slumped, and all that wasthe Liege Maximo ascended…

… just as J654 exploded, a monumental eruption thattore through the Hub. Airborne, Swoop hurtled up intothe sky, just ahead of the mushrooming fireball. It wasgoing to be close. Section upon section was consumed,obliterated, until the dome itself was destroyed, theLiege Maximo’s physical form along with it.

Above, the resonant portal collapsed, and all that wasthe Liege Maximo was caught in-between, pure energywith no place to go. As it dissipated, its screams echoedacross the vastness of space, reverberating in the audiosensors of every Transformer present.

****

70

In the historical footnotes pertaining to the war againstthe Liege Maximo, it was noted that while the cost ofvictory had indeed been high, the final battle ushered ina new era of cooperation between the divided factions.It was the twilight of the Decepticons, and the beginningof the Predacon era. Surrender became alliance,downsizing became the way forward in an energonstarved time. And finally, hope blossomed for anenduring peace.

With hindsight, they really should have known better.

71

72

73

And now, after 14 years…

74

75

Paul Cannon would like to thank the following peoplefor making the Alignment project possible:

Simon Furman, for his continuing support andenthusiasm; Emily Cannon for all of her support overthe years; Martin McVay, for his suggestions about partone. Thanks to Lee Sullivan, Kev Hopgood, GeoffSenior, Jeff Anderson, Andrew Wildman, Sean Bastickand Lew Stringer for their sheer artistic genius.

Many thanks to Steve White for his wonderfulinterpretation of two of my favourite characters.

Yet more thanks to Maverick Video, Marvel Comics,Forbidden Planet UK, Benson Yee, Mike Kazybrid, DezSkinn at Comics International, Maz Garvanovic,Cherrill Print, Dreamwave comics, Peter Hamblin,Hazel Marsden, everyone at Titan books for making oneof my dreams come true. If I've missed anyone I'msorry, I have a terrible habit for doing that.

Special thanks to Paul Wright and Graham Thomson.

-

TRANSFORCEwww.transforce.org.uk

76

77

"It never ends…"

78